


For Your Own Good

by Elleth



Series: Ladies Bingo 2017 [11]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Conflict Resolution, F/F, Fights, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: Living together needs compromises.





	For Your Own Good

**Author's Note:**

> For Ladies' Bingo, 'The Pursuit of Happiness'. Originally written for avolitorial on tumblr. ♥

“You’re just like Onni about keeping me quiet!”

“Well, I’m not keeping you if you want to go back to Finland!” Sigrun kicked her wardrobe closed and roughly pulled the padded shirt over her head before reaching for her byrnie and yanking that off its stand in the corner of the room. A strand of her hair caught in it before she’d fully put it on, and Sigrun stood, cursing and panting, while Tuuri rocked on the balls of her feet and bit her lip hard enough to hurt as the skin split under her teeth.

“Some help here?!” Sigrun snapped after a moment of struggling with her armour; the rings chimed. “This is stupid. You’re stupid. I’m doing this _for you_ , except if you _want_ to wake up to some troll climbing the fences tonight I can stay and keep you company in bed! The world didn’t stop being crap just because you managed to beat the odds. And maybe you won’t _die_ now if you get chewed on by another troll, but if it rips open your stomach and pulls your guts out there’s still nothing you can do!”

The words could have been comical, with Sigrun’s violet eyes glaring, half-obscured, through the rings of her chainmail shirt, not fully pulled over her head, and her hair caught in it in frazzles. It wasn’t funny at all. Tuuri swallowed around the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything in response.

As much as she hated sitting pretty in Dalsnes, or warming her bed while Sigrun went to work and fight, Sigrun wasn’t wrong. Tuuri pulled over a chair from the corner of the room, climbed it, and with slow, deliberate care, freed Sigrun’s hair from her armour. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that, but usually it wouldn’t go in tense silence, fractured only by the pant of Sigrun’s angry breathing. Usually it’d come with banter and easy laughter, about how Tuuri bending over her would be irresistible if not for Sigrun needing to head out, and about putting her clever fingers to use elsewhere.

She missed it, with a sharp pang through her guts that might as well be a troll ripping them out.

“There, done,” Tuuri said, and helped Sigrun put the shirt down without tangling it again. There was more she wanted to say. _Take care of yourself out there_ , for one thing, but the words died on her lips while her back was turned putting the chair back and heard Sigrun make for the door, boots loud on the floorboards and pausing only briefly by the door.

*

Tuuri made a point of pretending to be asleep when Sigrun came back well after sunset.

It wasn’t completely dark yet - late August meant a few hours of proper nights again, but still with the long dusks of summer - and Tuuri could see Sigrun, pale in the dark of the room, shrug off the clothes she’d put on after decontamination. She moved stiffly; a massive bruise was crawling over her side and up to her shoulder blade, and it didn’t help Tuuri’s guilt about not wishing Sigrun a safe hunt.

She hurriedly closed her eyes when Sigrun turned around. Not fast enough, it seemed.

“I know you’re awake, Fuzzy,” Sigrun said. Tuuri’s heart lurched at the familiar nickname. If Sigrun still were truly mad at her, or even very serious, there’d be no names at all, or proper ones. Instead she just sounded worn - more than the physical exhaustion of the hunt and probably more the pain of her injury merited.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tuuri said quietly, sitting up. “And I’m sorry I didn’t wish you luck; I was just… does it hurt a lot?”

“I’ve had worse,” Sigrun said. “Not even any blood.”

“Under the skin,” Tuuri said, no longer quite sure what they were talking about. “That’s why a bruise is a bruise.”

“Yeah, yeah. No proper blood, anyway,” Sigrun amended, crawling into her side of the bed under the thin summer blanket, naked. The outline of her body showed. “I’m going to sleep now; there’s training in the morning. Gotta get those new recruits up to shape. You should get a bit of shut-eye, too. I want you up on the training field at sunrise.”

“Y-you - what?”

“Yeah, I said that.” A smile was creeping back into Sigrun’s voice. “Mean it, too.” A long finger poked into Tuuri’s side, making her squirm. “I thought about what you said, about keeping you still. And about why I’m doing that - it’s because I care about you. I already lost you once.” A shadow flitted over Sigrun’s features, remembered but very real pain. Tuuri’s lungs burned, and she had to force herself to draw another breath - air, not water.

Sigrun pressed on. “But there’s other ways to keep you safe, and you’re right, it isn’t fair to want you to stay put. You’re immune now; I still sometimes forget that. You can go explore now, or at least you could if you weren’t greener in the field than Emil was in the beginning. And I could use a skald with us sometimes. We could do some book reconnaissance of our own, how’s that?”

Something bloomed in Tuuri’s chest - warmth, immense and bright. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”


End file.
